


Purgatory

by shieldmaidenwot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Eventual Romance, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldmaidenwot/pseuds/shieldmaidenwot
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginny and Draco end up stuck at the Burrow. Neither of them wants to be there... but they might understand each other better than they think.‘I suppose we should be thankful you’ve deigned to stop calling us blood traitors. Or was that just because I hexed you?’Draco winced. The phrase had slipped out – once! – and the memory of the resulting Bat-Bogey Hex was fresh and gooey in his mind. Several of the Aurors in the kitchen at the time had merely smirked and continued chatting while he’d flailed, helplessly, on the floor.He had a lot to answer for, he knew. But surely being stuck in this purgatory with this acid-tongued, flame-haired witch was too much to be borne.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

_Tears dripping onto the pages of an old leather book; the parchment welling up welcoming words in return. Her body, thinner by the day, tossing and turning in sheets strewn with hen-feathers. Lines of dripping paint that she could not wash out of her worn robes. The voice she’d never heard; the voice she’d never been able to answer. The utter cold of the stone floor on which she awoke, finally free._

Ginny awoke, heart pounding. Sitting in the soft darkness of her four-poster bed, mercifully feather-free, she sank her head in her hands. She had a headache, insidious, creeping up from her tingling spine.

She was not persuaded she would ever be free.

It had been five years and still she woke up at least once a month, pyjamas sodden with sweat, pulse pounding in her throat. It had been five years and she still could not look at snakes or pass that bathroom without a shudder and an icy feeling in her chest. It had been _five years_ and she still felt flutters when her dark-haired saviour walked by or crossed her thoughts.

Or should she say, her saviours. Because while she couldn’t shake a certain messy-haired, green-eyed boy from her mind, nor could she purge his sleek, dark-eyed rival from her dreams. Or were they nightmares?

 _You were a fool then and you’re a fool now,_ she told herself sternly. The tears threatened to well up again, prickles in her eyes. _You were young,_ she told herself, more gently this time, slumping back to the mattress and tugging the covers more tightly around her shoulders, broader and stronger now from years of Quidditch. _You’re still young. None of us are old enough for this._

Sometimes, privately, she mourned the loss of the first boy who had loved her. She knew now, of course, that she had merely been his pawn, a tiny pawn with flame-red hair and a wrung, piteous heart. But still, the words had to mean something. The tenderness, the sweetness – before it was poisoned by the growing understanding that something was sickeningly, frighteningly wrong.

She had flung herself into her new life with uncharacteristic boldness. She had grown taller, flintier, a little more heartless. She had breezed through a series of boyfriends. People began treating her a little less like glass, a little less like a child. She became, at least, capable of talking to Harry. She built up her arsenal of hexes, knowing it was only so long before the coming war re-enveloped her in a wash of blood. She continued to hear things at night; Tom’s words, Harry’s voice. Serpents.

She kissed Harry, and felt like an eleven-year-old again, welcomed by an older, wiser, wearier soul. She was a little shaken, but it did not stop her kissing him again that summer.

When the first signs came, the nightmares stopped. The trio left on a mission that could, finally, be lethal. The Malfoy ferret looked paler, shakier, every day. Her brothers scattered, most to join the resistance, one to cower in the Ministry. The seventh child, training every moment with the Army, would soon be fighting her own war.

Punching and spinning her way through the drills, shooting newer and more powerful hexes, conjuring her stallion Patronus; wondering, _Have I banished him at last?_

Tom never featured in her dreams any more. But neither did Harry. The cherished words, the adored voice, the serpents – all were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> I've moved this old, incomplete fic to AO3 and will be adding to in the coming weeks. It will be about 20 chapters depending on what you all think! Comments and/or kudos hugely appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco’s gaze slid from the bustle at the centre of the common room to the flames in the blackened fireplace. The flickering tongues drew him in and repelled him at the same time. He was cold, but he didn’t bother to draw his dark robes any closer around his shoulders.

He was always cold.

Tilting his head back into the smooth black leather of the sofa, Draco cast his mind back to the last time he felt warm. His thoughts brushed against memories of emerald and silver robes, gleaming broomsticks… and slid on by. Blinking, he raised his head.

The common room was empty. How long had he been sitting here? How long had they just… _left_ him to it?

Shaking his pale head, he rose unsteadily to his feet.

Time for a walk.

* * *

Footsteps echoing, Draco meandered his way around the school hallways. It was only upon nearly bumping into a blur of black and red that he snapped to attention.

Oh! Contrary to first impressions, he had not bumped into a small fire – rather, into one of the Weasleys, the girl. The only one left. She was sitting opposite a nondescript stretch of wall, a series of charmed black birds flitting around her head. At once she jumped to her feet, the birds disappearing behind her.

‘Malfoy! What are you doing here?’

Draco recovered his composure. ‘I could ask the same of you, _Weasley_ ,’ he sneered, twisting the final word.

‘I was just – practicing Charms. It’s a spell Hermione taught -’

‘I couldn’t care less what you were doing, or what spells that fugitive witch has been teaching you. I merely ask that you don’t trip me up on my evening walk. Is that really so difficult?’

Ginny’s voice was hard. ‘Try watching where you’re going. I’m not going to move for traitorous _scum_ like you.’

Colour rose in Draco’s cheeks. ‘You shouldn’t even be out here after hours.’

Ginny rolled her eyes and flopped back to the ground, the birds re-emerging from under her coppery waves of hair. ‘Whatever, Malfoy. Neither should you.’

He suddenly felt weary. ‘If I told the Carrows -’

Glancing up, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Say something to the Crows and you’ll wish you’d never spoken.'

Draco gritted his teeth. Brows snapping together, he swept past her, continuing his walk along the seventh-floor corridor. _Since when had the littlest weasel become so… uppity?_ He remembered her as a slip of a thing, always darting in and out of her brothers’ shadows. Glancing back, he saw that she was watching him, toying with a slender ebony wand.

Shaking his head, he turned forward and kept walking. His heart, unusually, was pounding.

* * *

That night, for the first time in a long time, he dreamed.

_If you could call them dreams. Dark-robed Death Eaters climbing from an old cabinet, to steal through the darkness like thieves. The werewolf loping through Hogwarts’ halls. His own weakness – a wavering wand at the top of the Astronomy tower, the storm clouds gathered. A flash of green at the finish._

_The old man's fall, sudden. Final. The sick wash of relief._

Draco whimpered awake with tears on his cheeks, gasping for air beneath his heavy sheets. His fingers eased over the Mark, burning ice-cold in the darkness.

His mother had whispered wretched, traitorous words to him that winter, worthless wishes in the face of the Lord’s black wrath. She had dared hope they might break free.

He was not persuaded he would ever be free.

* * *

Despite its roar, the fire barely warmed the vast stone rooms of the manor. Draco was slouched against the wall in a silvery-green alcove, gazing out of the window. Home had always been dull, but comfortably so. Now, filled with crackling tension, it was insufferable. The sky had faded from blue to a pale grey as he watched, and now it was sliding into early darkness, roiling with clouds. He roused himself and shivered.

Motion in the grounds caught his eye. _The werewolf’s gang_. Prickles crawled along his arms and up his neck. _But who was that with -?_

‘Merlin’s blood!’ He threw himself from the window. Three trussed up prisoners. Red, brown, black.

Slumping onto his back among the silvery cushions, Draco groaned.

A storm was gathering, and he just wanted the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Comments and/or kudos hugely appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

The end came soon enough, of course.

It came, catching Fred in the burst of a broken wall, crumpling Harry into a heap. It came, wrapped Ginny in rage, sent her hurtling, crackling into the fray. The end fired even Molly Weasley with white-hot fury, brought down Bellatrix; finished the fanatical Lord.

It came and left Ginny exhausted, but still somehow moving; still tending the wounded, rallying her fractured army, finding her friends. Dead. Alive. _Alive._

* * *

It came in a flash of Fiendfyre, roaring to the rafters of an overstuffed old room. It came in a flurry of desperate betrayals, a maelstrom of shouted spells, a crashing of curses. It came in a bloody reckoning, leaving anchorless orphans, childless families, broken bodies in Hogwarts’ halls.

It came and left Draco numb and dazed in a shroud of whispers.

Free.

Free to break away from his hysterical mother and grimly silent father. Free to turn his eyes from the sobbing, red-haired huddle knotted together around a corpse. To wander the dusty, shattered corridors ‘til he could walk no further, sinking at last onto the floor in the dungeons. To feel the burn in his arm subside into a slow, cold ache.

Free.

* * *

Finally he shook himself out of his stupor and got to his feet. How many hours had rolled by since he left the hall? Shattered, Draco dragged his way along corridors, staggering up stairs. He slunk back towards the doors, and was suddenly knocked to the side as a convoy of stretchers bore bloodied, dark-robed bodies past him into the hall. He caught his balance just as a flame swept through the doors and rounded on him.

‘He’s dead. They’re all dead. Because of your precious lord.’

Draco tried to muster some haughtiness. ‘He’s not my – we wanted out a long time ago.’ He couldn’t meet her eyes.

She snarled. ‘You’re lucky your mother lied for you, or I -’

His hackles rose at the mention of Narcissa. ‘Keep your mouth shut about my mother. Potter’s the lucky one.’

Ginny growled, but she didn’t want to fight any more. She exhaled, massaging her temples. Deflated, she muttered, ‘They’re looking for you. Your mum and dad. Get out.’

Draco nodded and turned, suddenly wanting to join his parents, to put as much distance as possible between him and this girl.

Ginny, teeth gritted, watched him go.

* * *

They had won. They had lost. They had lost so many. She saw the Weasleys, sitting like statues, shocked. Ginny made her way to them, picking a path through the rubble. Then she swayed and slumped, exhausted, on her mother’s shoulder.

_Twin redheads plotting in the corner, bobbing round their joke-shop, careening with a crash through the great wooden doors. Aloft._

_Dusty corduroy, careworn smile, the taste of chocolate. Tears in his kind eyes as he held his son like a dream, a memory._

_Pig snout, eyes crinkled in laughter. Hair shifting queasily between spiky blue and vivid purple. Fearless._

_Colin. Lavender._

_Hedwig. Sirius. Cedric._

_Tom._

Ginny shuddered awake, awash in sorrow.

She had fought, and they had won, and now the memories and the fire of war had scoured her clean, sapped her strength, left her empty.

More stretchers filed in; Madam Pomfrey was rapping out orders as if manning a field hospital was second nature to her. Kingsley and McGonagall were deep in conversation. Professors were bustling about, trying to be busy. Trying to fix something.

Her father was standing, trying to speak. Ron, shell-shocked, was gripping Hermione’s hands, staring without seeing. Fleur was gazing ahead, steely and still beautiful, while Bill tenderly cleaned the blood from her silver hair. Harry was grim, talking quietly with Neville and Luna.

The Malfoys, looking very small, were sitting adrift at the edge of the hall.

Parents, Aurors, and Mediwizards were arriving, swelling the hall with noise. The Great Hall’s clock ticked on. The ceiling-sky was somehow dawning rosy with clouds, spinning into blue.

What could possibly come after this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> I hope you liked chapter 3! Comments and/or kudos hugely appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Walking home from their visit to the Ottery St. Catchpole graveyard, Luna took Ginny’s hand and tugged her to a halt, startling her out of her thoughts – _fresh flowers on fresh dirt, cleanly carved stone…_

‘I know it doesn’t feel that way,’ said Luna kindly. ‘But it will be better, eventually, you know. I mean, it will never stop hurting – it will hurt every day, forever – but in time you can think of other things. After a few weeks, or years, you can even be happy – without feeling -’

‘Guilty?’ interjected Ginny. ‘Without feeling like I should have died instead, anyone but him should have died?’

‘Yes,’ said Luna simply. ‘Without feeling any of that.’

Ginny breathed in deeply, despite the knot in her chest. She squeezed Luna’s hand in gratitude.

‘I made you this.’ Luna held something out to her friend. Seashells, strung into a necklace. And – Ginny held it up to the light – an anchor, glinting gold.

‘Because you’re drifting.’

Ginny managed a smile before burying her face in Luna’s shoulder. Her fists clung tightly to Luna’s dark velvet mourning robes.

‘Not for long. Not with friends like you to hold on to.’

* * *

Narcissa turned as Draco opened the door. Going to him, she reached out her hands, cradling his face with cool palms, brushing his cheek with gentle fingers. As if she had to make sure he was really there.

They were the same height now. Gazing at him, she smiled. ‘It’s only for a little while, darling Draco.’

‘Mother, I told you, you shouldn’t have to do this all alone. With Father still busy at the Ministry -’

‘Draco, you are still weakened from the war. This place is still full of His magic, His power. I hear you crying out every night, I can see your Mark is still paining you. We have consulted and we think it would be best for you to be somewhere less – Dark. For now. Just for a few weeks. While we purge this place.’

He let himself be ordered, just this once. It was nice, for a change, to take orders from someone who loved you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> Chapter 4! A short but sweet one. Comments and/or kudos hugely appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Why should I trust you any farther than I can throw you?’ she spat, bristling.

Bile rose in Draco’s throat. ‘Look. If it wasn’t for my family, your precious _Potter_ would be dead.’

‘Your _family_. How much we all owe them.’

Draco paled. It was hard, even now, not to rise to the defence of his family’s name.

‘I suppose we should be thankful you’ve deigned to stop calling us _blood traitors_. Or was that just because I hexed you?’

Draco winced. The phrase had slipped out – _once!_ – and the memory of the resulting Bat-Bogey Hex was fresh and gooey in his mind. Several of the Aurors in the kitchen at the time had merely smirked and continued chatting while he’d flailed, helplessly, on the floor.

He had a lot to answer for, he knew. But surely being stuck in this purgatory with this acid-tongued, flame-haired witch was too much to be borne. She was here because her brothers wouldn’t let her out to help clear up the last of the Death Eaters and giants; he was here because Malfoy Manor was still off-limits, full of unstable Dark Magic left over from Voldemort’s residency. And, one month on, the Order still didn’t trust the general wizarding public to treat kindly any Malfoy found out of doors.

Her voice broke into his brooding thoughts. ‘Look. I don’t want to be here either. If your precious family hadn’t all been _crazy Death Eaters_ maybe they’d be letting you out rather than hiding you away for your own safety. You’re lucky we’re not still at Grimmauld Place.’

‘At least that place had _class_ ,’ muttered Malfoy darkly.

Ginny rose to her full five feet seven inches and stalked over to him, casually flicking back her long emerald robes to reveal the ebony wand slipped into the waistband of her jean shorts. ‘ _What_ are you implying about my home?’ she asked icily, hands on hips.

Draco slouched further into his armchair. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.’

* * *

Draco was halfway downstairs – having decided that trying the Weasley breakfast couldn’t be _that_ bad – when he heard Mrs. Weasley’s mollifying tones.

‘I’m not saying you have to love him, dear. I’m just asking you to be a bit kinder. The poor boy’s all alone with his father hauled up for questioning and his mother overseeing at the manor.’

‘ _Mum_.’

‘Just give it some thought, lovey. I thought I brought you up more compassionate.’

Draco retreated, lip curled. He didn’t need their friendship.

* * *

Ginny, absorbed in her reading, did not hear the first tap on the window. It was only when the disgruntled owl rapped rather more firmly on the streaky glass that she glanced up from the page. A pair of glaring golden eyes returned her gaze.

Placing her book to one side, she hopped up and peered out the window. Not just one but four elegant grey owls were perched on the table in the back garden, wings hunched and eyes unblinking. Ginny stuffed a handful of Pigwidgeon’s treats into her pocket and hurried outside. The owls were guarding a long, narrow parcel wrapped in silver paper. The first owl awkwardly held out one scaly black leg, flapping his wings to maintain his balance as she unfastened the heavy parchment envelope from his leg-ties. It was addressed to ‘Draco Malfoy, Esq.’ and sealed with a serpent motif in green wax. She shuddered and put it to one side. Bending down to eye level, she thanked the owl and deposited the pile of owl treats on the table. The owl hooted a haughty reply before spinning and joining his comrades in their attentions to the treats.

She picked up the envelope and broomstick – for a broomstick it must be – and marched inside, placing the broomstick gently on the kitchen table. (She would never manhandle a broomstick, no matter how odious its owner.) Picking up her book, she was about to sit down when she stopped and sighed audibly. _If I were him, I’d want it now. Hell. If I’m going to be nice to him, I might as well start with something we both like. I can give him his broomstick._

‘Draco?’ she called up the stairs.

Nothing.

‘Oh Draaaaco.’

Silence.

‘Malfoy!’

Still, silence.

‘Draco Malfoy, Esquire!’

Still, maddeningly, nothing.

Ginny sighed. Now that she’d had a moment to think, she wasn’t so sure she was ready to be nice to him – or to fly again. And she wasn’t to let him out unsupervised. Easing into a rickety chair, she fell into thoughtful contemplation of the long silver parcel.

Unheeded, the clock ticked by long minutes as thoughts flickered behind her chestnut eyes. A careful watcher might have seen liquid welling up in those eyes, but there was no one in the Burrow’s kitchen to watch.

_No Bludgers. No Quaffle. Not yet. But maybe…_

At once, she made up her mind. Snapping upright and blinking angrily a few times, she headed for the hallway and bounded up the stairs two at a time. Arriving in her attic room, she wrenched open her sock drawer and rifled through it, finally unearthing a small box. Drawing it out, she held it close to her nose, inhaling the clean scent of polished wood. Harry had left this for her, their only connection during the long months of his mission. Back when she hadn’t known if she would see him again; back when she had been in love.

 _I might as well let it fly_ , she thought, and slid the box into her pocket.

* * *

A moment later, she was standing on the landing one floor down, knocking on the door.

‘Draco, there’s something in the kitchen you’ll want to see.’

‘Draco, I know you’re in there, and you don’t take naps. Open up.’

‘Malfoy, I’m pretty sure I can hex through a doorway.’

There was a creak, and Draco poked his head balefully around the door. ‘ _What_.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Come _on_ , doom-and-gloom. You’ve had a delivery.’

He opened the door a little further and emerged, sticking his hands into the pockets of his storm-grey robes lest she attempt to pull him downstairs by the hands. ‘You couldn’t have brought it up?’

Ginny, halfway to the landing, silently turned and arched an eyebrow.

‘Ah,’ said Draco, and proceeded to follow her downstairs.

* * *

‘Well, what do you say?’ said Ginny.

‘What do I say to what?’ Draco responded.

Ginny’s mouth twitched. For the first time since he arrived, Draco looked nearly _alive_ – he kept running his hands down the length of the broomstick, thumbing the polished wood. _I guess he doesn’t have much from home here._

Ginny pulled the box from her pocket and flipped the lid. There, nestled beneath its leather and silver straps, was a Golden Snitch.

‘Fancy a bit of flying?’ she grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> Chapter 5! Thank you to everyone who has left kudos <3\. Comments and kudos hugely appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hell_ , thought Draco. _If we’re going to be stuck here, we might at least have a bit of fun. They can’t literally ground us – can they?_

* * *

When Molly returned from her errands, the kitchen was quiet.

‘Ginny, pet?’ she queried, calling upstairs. ‘Draco, dear?’

Nothing.

Frowning, she busied herself with carrots and onions at the counter-top, chopping rhythmically. In a time so full of murderous magic, it was a respite, almost a pleasure, to do something by hand.

As so often when she was alone, her thoughts turned to her children. The worry over Ginny’s whereabouts receded to the back of her mind as it turned, inevitably, to Fred. He had been here, in this very kitchen, just a few months ago… Sniffing back a sob, Molly turned to dry her eyes on the dishcloth. That’s when she heard – was that young Draco?

He bounded in through the back doorway, broomstick in hand, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks nearly pink, followed by Ginny, her hair tumbling from its elastic.

‘I can’t _believe_ you pulled that off -’

‘Just an old trick, you nearly fell for it -’

‘I did _not_ nearly -’

‘Next time we should perhaps not give it _quite_ such a head start -’

The two teenagers stopped, abruptly, at the sight of Mrs. Weasley and her knife. Dabbing at her eyes, she smiled. ‘So that’s where the two of you have been. I do hope you weren’t _seen_ , wherever you got to. I’ve just been chopping onions…’ As she looked over the two, tousled and out of breath from their flight, her mouth hitched and tears threatened to spill from her lashes.

Draco blanched visibly. ‘Did – did you say you have a polish kit out in the garden? I’ll just be…out…’ He was gone in a swirl of grey robes, turning the corner towards the ramshackle shed.

Ginny put her broomstick back in its brackets above the doorway and went to her mother. ‘Mum – don’t – we weren’t gone for long, we were careful, I promise -’

Molly sniffed and patted her daughter’s hair absently. ‘I know, lovey. I just – seeing you so happy again – it’s been so long since anyone in this house was happy, and I was just – thinking of – of Fred…’

It was too much. Ginny’s throat went tight; she blinked hard and squeezed her mother tightly. Hearing a noise at the door, she turned in relief to see her father. ‘Dad, mum needs you,’ she said quietly as she helped him out of his overcoat.

Arthur took one look at Molly and smiled sadly at his daughter. ‘Perhaps you could finish up with the carrots,’ he said, gently guiding his wife through to the sitting room.

* * *

She shot up – were the nightmares back? Were those her own moans she had heard?

No. Not hers. Her demons were banished.

These sounds were coming from the floor below.

Draco.

Ginny slumped back into bed and pulled a pillow over her head, trying to find her way back to sleep. _It’s none of my business._

The next noise was a guttural cry that shot her bolt upright and out of bed. Throwing open the door, she hurtled down the stairs. She didn’t want anyone, even Malfoy, to face those nightmares a second longer than necessary.

His door was locked, but the lock was ancient. Ginny’s wand was upstairs on her bedside table. Panicking, she slammed her full weight against the door, bursting the lock from its bracket, and took in the scene.

Draco was twisted on the narrow bed, his covers flung back, his bare chest heaving and his face contorted in pain. He seemed to be wrestling with his own arm.

‘ _Draco!_ ’ she yelled, running to the bed and wrenching his arm to her chest. ‘ _Draco, snap out of it!_ ’ She slammed his far shoulder back into the bed, pinning his racked body down with her own weight. Held, he stilled.

‘Draco,’ she said urgently, easing up as his body relaxed. ‘You’re safe. He’s gone.’

His eyes fluttered open, his lashes dark with tears. Confusion knitted his brows – ‘What? Who? Oh. Ginny.’ He was panting still. It was the first time he had called her by name.

Ginny let go of his shoulder and straightened up, keeping his arm in her hands. She felt wetness on her fingertips. Fear rose in the back of her throat as she looked down at his forearm. Where the black serpent twined itself into a skull, Draco had raked his own skin into bloody shreds. She bit her lip.

‘I’ll get a bandage, wait here.’

‘No -’

‘I’ll be right back.’ She met his eyes with a glare. ‘No arguing.’

Draco subsided, fishing his pillow from the floor with his good arm as she swept out of the room.

In hushed whispers, Ginny managed to persuade her hovering parents to go back to bed. ‘I’ve got this, mum. Really. I don’t think he’d want your help.’

‘But darling -’

‘Please. Mum. Dad. You don’t understand.’

Molly frowned, but allowed her husband and daughter to steer her back to bed.

* * *

When Ginny returned, Draco looked slightly better – still pale, but less deathly, and when she took his wrist, she felt that his pulse had subsided.

Opening a jar of Finnegan’s Finest, she daubed the ointment on his torn forearm.

Draco took a deep breath. She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

‘You didn’t need to -’

‘Of course I did. You were dreaming of him.’ It wasn’t a question.

He looked past her to the open window and the wheeling stars, flinching as she padded his arm with gauze.

‘You couldn’t understand.’

Ginny stiffened. Bristling as she secured the gauze with tape, she said quietly, ‘I’m the only one _left_ who understands.’

Draco’s head snapped round, but she was already standing and gathering up her supplies. She crossed the room in two swift strides; he caught a mere glimpse of her eyes flashing as she closed the door. The ruined lock rattled.

‘Sweet dreams, _Draco_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.  
> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me!


	7. Chapter 7

When Draco came down to breakfast the next morning, Ginny was already there with an elbow propped on the table, absorbed in a book on Quidditch. A veil of flaming hair shielded her eyes. Her far hand was tracing lazy circles on the table; beside her, a spoon spun ghostly in a bowl of forgotten porridge. Draco raised his eyebrows and, fetching a bowl of his own from the rack on the wall, went to the stovetop for some breakfast. He heard a scrape and turned; she was gone.

His pale cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. _Very well then._

* * *

They avoided each other for three days. The first evening, when Draco went up to bed, he found a dusty bottle by his bedside. A note in Molly’s firm hand read, _One tablespoon each evening. For dreamless sleep._

He took the bottle in his hand; it was surprisingly heavy, blue glass with a silver label. Hating himself, he uncapped it and drank. Five minutes later, sprawled on the bed and still wearing his grey robes, he was deep in sleep.

* * *

On the second day, Draco wandered into the living room to find Ginny curled up in a chair, still reading.

 _What, is she trying to become a Granger?_ he wondered.

She glanced up, once, as he took a seat. She scowled slightly and turned back to her book. Draco bit his lip, taking out his own book. They sat in careful silence for an hour before Ginny jumped to her feet, tossing her book to one side. He watched as she pulled her broomstick down from above the door and wrenched the door open. It slammed in her wake as she swept through.

 _Is she always this moody?_ Draco frowned and tried to focus on his book. _Is she expecting a thank you for bursting into the only private space I have in this godforsaken hovel?_

He couldn’t quite muster the outrage he was looking for.

* * *

On the third day, Draco was sitting with his porridge when a brief roll of thunder from the stairs announced Ginny’s descent.

‘You’d think we raised elephants,’ Arthur remarked absently.

Ginny poked her head into the kitchen, one hand still gripping the newel post; when she saw Draco, her eyes narrowed and she swung back, seeming to think better of her breakfast plans. Shaking her vivid hair as if to banish a pesky gnat, she headed outside.

Draco sighed. Molly and Arthur looked at him, eyebrows raised.

‘Dear -’ began Molly.

He shook his head and got up abruptly. With a wave of his hand, he sent his bowl and spoon to the sink; when the Weasleys looked back, he was already out the door.

Arthur shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Molly,’ he murmured. ‘I just don’t know.’

* * *

He caught up with her out in the garden, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched, watching an incredibly ugly potato snuffling about under a bush.

He joined her. ‘Merlin, what _is_ that?’

‘It’s a gnome,’ she said stonily. ‘Most gardens have them.’

‘I’ve never seen one in _our_ grounds -’ he stopped. ‘Sorry.’

‘For what? Your derision? Your ingratitude? Your horrid family?’

He sighed, trying not to rise to the bait.

‘Look, thank you for waking me up. I’m sorry if… if my words gave you offense.’ Taking a breath, he went on, ‘If you haven’t served him, it _is_ hard to understand the hold he can have, even -’

‘Even in death?’ She rounded on him. ‘You might want to think you’re special, Malfoy. You’ve been having nightmares for what, a year? Two years?’

He opened his mouth to answer, but she prodded him in the chest with a finger. He jumped back and stared.

‘I had nightmares for _five years_ , Malfoy,’ she whispered. ‘Or have you forgotten? Were you so caught up in the – the _Slytherin’s heir_ , the _purging of mudbloods_ – that you’ve forgotten who did it all?’ She was breathing hard, her nostrils flared. Trying to keep her tears back, her anger in check.

The hairs rose on the back of his neck. ‘I – I _had_ forgotten…’

‘Well I bloody haven’t! You don’t remember that your _father_ was the one who started it? I was _eleven_ , Draco. Do you know what it does to a person, a child, to have him take over your mind like that?’ Her hands curled into fists. ‘It’s not _fun_ , let me tell you.’

Pinned by her angry eyes, he was, finally, at a loss for words. He sighed. ‘I… Ginny,’ he said. ‘I _am_ sorry.’

They both knew he was apologizing for more than an old black diary.

‘We were in too deep. What was I supposed to do?’

She was silent.

Frustrated, he threw up his hands, knotting them in his silvery hair. ‘You don’t think I’m paying for it?’ he demanded. ‘I will _never be rid of this._ ’ Roughly, he rolled up his left sleeve, tore off the bandage. The marks were healing, but the snake still seethed, bloated black coils on his pale skin.

She gazed at the Dark Mark for a while, then raised her head to meet his gaze. ‘At last,’ she said evenly. ‘Something the Malfoys can’t buy their way out of.’

He winced and looked away, his eyes searching for something solid to settle on. In the distance the wooded hilltops rose to the sky; the summer sun was already climbing the heights, burnishing the green land into gold. He looked back at Ginny, half expecting her to have vanished again. But she was still there, breathing more quietly now, the sun in her hair.

‘Yes.’ His voice was calmer, the anger gone. He rolled down his sleeve. ‘Yes, I know that now.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters; I just play in their world.
> 
> Here's chapter 7! Thank you for reading, reviewing, and leaving kudos!


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